Confused
by drugan
Summary: Cornered; exhausted; wounded. Her confusion was understandable even if it made things complicated.
1. Part 1 : Fugitive

_This is a short 4-parts story inspired by the concept seen in multiple fanfics (including some by Jennythe3, The Storymaster1000, etc...) where a hunted Dani calls Danny another name. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer : I do not own Danny Phantom or Harry Potter._

**Confused**, part 1 : **Fugitive**

She was exhausted, completely and utterly exhausted. She was running on fumes, just on the verge of losing her cohesion and reverting to the primordial ectoplasmic soup that had been used to engineer her. She'd been fleeing for hours, using all those neat little tricks developed to survive as a homeless wanderer. Her tactics, very efficient on fools, worked well against her current crop of opponents as they were far from Mensa material. The problem was that they compensated with numbers, determination, sheer relentlessness and that strange gadget called a Venkman oscillator that accurately pinpointed her location.

A lesser being would have given up long ago, accept her fate and let her foes capture her for experimental purposes. She wasn't such a being. The genes extracted from the one she mentally called daddy had gifted her with an unhealthy streak of stubbornness. She was steadfast in her resolve not to concede to those… those… those… She lacked the vocabulary for a proper qualifier. She knew words from the streets that fitted but she had promised herself not to use them after she had learnt her daddy's disapproval of swearing.

Her wonderful mental fortitude was proving insufficient compared to the numerous advantages of her pursuers. They had number, technology, even the law. A being such as she wasn't recognized any rights. Her only real chance was to get to her daddy before they caught her.

A blast of electricity struck the joined appendage that replaced her legs in rapid flight, taking her out of her ghostly form and sending her tumbling to the ground. All those hours of flight for naught. They had her. Her tiredness weighted on her, robbing her of her capacity to transform back. The hard landing had jolted her left arm right out of its socket. Fear and pain filled her eyes with tears. She no longer was Dani Phantom, the strong combative spirit. She was Danielle, a scared preteen alone in a cruel world.

"Great shot" she heard as her opponents closed in for capture. A crowd of witnesses was gathering around but she dared not hope for help. Being a supernatural entity wasn't a good thing in the current climate. A huge fraction of the population was still lashing out after the Great Reveal and the Wizarding War months ago. She half-expected passersby to lapidate her.

Her captors approached until they stood before her, a standard three-person subdual team. There was a woman and two men. They appeared more like bodyguards or enforcers than government-issued paranormal hunters. Broad-shouldered, stern-faced, wearing earpieces and white custom tailored suits, each was holding a large, mean-looking energy rifle.

Frightened, wounded, exhausted, she had no spunk left to mock the obviously phallic appearance of the weapons or taunt the opposition into a rage-induced mistake. The hopelessness of her situation was gaining more and more control on her emotions and she started reacting like the young child she really was. She started crying in earnest.

Being good government drones and, as such, totally devoid of pity, the three agents didn't respond at her display of weakness. They were going to grasp her and seal her fate when they suddenly stopped and reoriented their weapons at a point beyond her.

"Get back citizen." the woman ordered authoritatively.

Dani checked over her shoulder. She could see an indistinct blur through the haziness of her tears, a black-haired teen on the smallish size standing apart within the circle of bystanders, half-crouched in a fighting stance. He radiated power.

What power it was! The last time she had seen Danny, it hadn't been that potent, that incredible. Its taste had evolved too. It used to be cool and light, mildly tingly, fruity and so refreshing. Now it evoked the dense warmth of a comforting hot chocolate in the middle of the night after a nightmare. It tasted just like one of her best memory of her daddy.

Hope soared in her heart at seeing him unexpectedly so far from his home, providing her with a measure of energy, just enough to get to her feet and jump into his arms, narrowly dodging two rifle blasts in the process.

She meant to call him by his name yet fill that single word with the sum of the gratitude, the love and the need she associated with her mental nickname for him. She had truly meant it but, in the confusion created by her less-than-stellar emotional and physical state, it came out all wrong. She used her private word, her inner word.

"Daddy!"


	2. Part 2 : Stalker

_You can't have that particular plot without journalists getting involved so… enjoy!_

**Confused**, part 2 : **Stalker**

An human-interest story about the world's saviour. That had been his original idea. After all, the secretive young man had saved the world and was instrumental to the Great Reveal of scores of hidden mystical beings. The journalist had assumed this idea would be met with outright refusal. It was the official editorial policy of the conglomerate owning the site that the supernatural was to be covered as negatively as possible. The editor, a barely competent young woman whose belief in catering to the social views of the proprietors had made a rising star, had reacted unexpectedly, twisting his concept into this degrading assignment. She had ordered him to investigate the young hero, as proposed, but only to uncover any compromising informations, whatever the cost.

Initial searches had delivered nothing worthwhile. The young hero's main character flaws were well-publicized. He disrespected most forms of authority, which was amply justified by the well-known tales of his struggles to save others. His darkest aspects might be his irrational anger at the use of a certain 'f' word but popular gratitude had all but banished that word from use in polite society.

That was as far as the reporter had gotten with proper journalism, amounting to almost nothing. Cornered between renouncing the assignment (and his employment), forging some incriminating evidences or stalking his prey like a common paparazzi, he had chosen the latter solution.

A golden opportunity finally presented itself a morning as he was following his target from one shop to another. Both journalist and celebrity were walking in a large outdoor parking lot when the hero stopped to look toward the south-east. Right there in the sky was a green glowing shaped that flew erratically at high speed, dodging lightning-like bolts of energy coming from the ground. It was struck seconds later, its glow dissipating. It crashed in an empty section of the lot.

The news writer watched a phenomenon that was only whispered about, the rumoured transformation of the young champion. His whole attitude, countenance and body language morphed from those of an average looking small-sized dark-haired shy teenager to a dangerous-looking predator. Power literally poured out of him, scorching the asphalt and triggering alarms in nearby cars. After abating his power to less dangerous levels, the teen joined the gathering surrounding the impact site.

In the center of the growing crowd stood three agents from that mysterious governmental agency officially charged with policing the paranormal: the Guys-In-White. They were advancing on the creature they had felled from the sky. The thing now looked like a wounded, crying tomboyish little girl. Large technological rifles were aimed in its direction in a bid to protect the public if it acted monstrously. Just as the brave public defenders were getting close enough to grasp it, they stopped and reoriented their weaponry.

"Get back, citizen." the lone feminine agent commanded authoritatively.

The near-captive and most of the witnesses turned their heads toward the recipient of that order. The dark-haired hero was standing alone, the new center of attention, his stance clearly indicating both readiness and willingness to fight. No one could doubt that he wasn't pleased with the situation and intended to intervene, to protect that thing from its well deserve fate.

The thing in question, still masquerading behind the appearance of a child, surprised everyone by its reaction. It rose to its feet, narrowly evaded a righteous demise and jumped on her newly arrived protector who instinctively catched it.

"Daddy!" was its emotion-filled call.

Even the object of that heartfelt exclamation was shocked but, as befitting his chivalrous personality, he chose to protect the little monster, acquiring a better hold on it while freeing most of his right side.

"Citizen" directed the woman. Either she was really stupid or she had not recognized her interlocutor, because she very poorly chose her next words. "let go of the little freak and get back."

There was a collective gasp at the use of that word. The 'f' word. The dreaded 'f' word had just been used in public, right in front of their saviour. Green flames were already forming in his eyes.

While he was not the most religious and he harbored an healthy (as he liked to think) dislike of the supernatural, the reporter had always respected the beliefs of others, especially after the Great Reveal. That respect inspired him to spare a short prayer for those poor three agents and their souls. They were going to need it. It was about to get ugly. Really, really ugly.


	3. Part 3 : Saviour

**Confused**, part 3 : **Saviour**

It was quite the enjoyable morning for the world's saviour. It had debuted with a wake-up call from his friends. He missed them greatly but dared not return home just yet. Those enraged by the Great Reveal of their existence were bound to cause trouble. He wasn't intimidated by them, he simply didn't care for the hassle. He enjoyed the peace that had finally come into his life after years of fighting.

Tired of playing tourist without a companion to share the sights, the young heroic figure decided to go for a round of shopping. Exiting the hotel, he felt the familiar presence of the man that had tailed him for the last few weeks. Normally, stalkers and paparazzis were great pranking practice. This one had been rather discreet and respectful in his stalkerish ways, so he'd been spared until such a time he became an annoyance.

The teen's instincts issued their first warning a few blocks from the hotel but it wasn't until he had reached the middle of the large parking lot of his destination that he was able to pinpoint the issue. A strong but wavering power signature was approaching at very high velocity. He turned toward the southeast in time to see a glowing green shape get struck by a bolt from the ground and crash into an empty section of the lot.

It was like a switch had toggled into his brain. His whole attitude changed. No longer was he just a man in vacations, he was back to the relentless heroic vanquisher. He walked rapidly toward the impact site, joining the peoples already gathered there.

Three agents from the governmental supernatural containment agency, two men and a woman, were closing in on a little girl. A wounded, crying little girl. His blood boiled. She might not be entirely human - she'd been glowing moments before and ectoplasm was running through her aura - but she was still a little girl. Children of any kind were to be preserved. Utterly disgusted, he never hesitated, not sparring one thought to the possible consequences. He broke the circle of bystanders to intervene.

"Get back, citizen" ordered the lone feminine agent authoritatively in response to his approach, the three rifles now pointing toward him. He didn't even felt threatened. He doubted those weapons could pass his defences.

The child turned her tear-covered face toward him. Her expression illuminated in recognition. She rose to her feet, narrowly escaped eradication and threw herself at him.

"Daddy!"

For an instant, he was confused by warring emotions. She wasn't possibly his, was surely mistaken. Yet the warmth of her call, its hope, its love… it tugged at his heart in novel ways. He catched her in his arms. Years of practice imposed by friends took over. He unconsciously hugged her and rubbed her back in a compassionate manner.

The looming threat never left his mind. He changed his hold to free an arm so that when the situation degenerated, as it seemed destined to do, he could better protect her and give a proper response. He didn't wait long before the situation did degenerate.

"Citizen" commanded the woman, "let go of the little freak and get back."

The 'f' word. She dared use the 'f' word toward a child. That single-syllable resonated deep within him, awakening pools of resentment he had never managed to eliminate. He saw red.

A twist of the wrist dropped his trusty holly wand directly into his palm. In cold efficient determination, without a single word of power, with the precision of a master orchestral conductor, he waved the small stick. Protections and powerful attacks chained together, eliminating the threat in mere seconds. One male agent saw his clothes transfigured into rigid metal while the other was ensnared in constricting tentacles made of his own bodily hairs. As for the woman, he artificially stripped any confidence or self-worthiness for the next few days, mirroring the feelings the dreaded 'f' word had instilled in him during his childhood.

Their little victim, still in his arms, had finally realised her mistake. Panicked, she was struggling to free herself, risking further damages to her shoulder. He had to calm her down, which meant he needed a safe environment. He turned his back to the neutralized opposition and went toward the crowd of witnesses. Awed, it opened to let him pass. It would have been a clean getaway if his stalker hadn't chose that moment to become an annoyance.

"Harry Potter! A few questions mister Potter! Why…"

Harry disapparated.


	4. Part 4 : Captive

**Confused**, part 4 : **Captive**

She was mortified, completely and utterly mortified. She had called her Danny "daddy". Part of Dani wanted to crawl away, find a dark corner, stay hidden there for all eternity. Another part refused to move from her current position. It was so comfortable in that hug, so warm and caring and sheltered. When he changed his hold to further protect her, not letting her go, it sent a renewed wave of pure warmth in her body. Never had she felt so appreciated. If it was the consequence of her confusion, of saying that one private thought out loud, it was the best error of her young life.

"Citizen" commanded the womanly agent. "Let go of the little freak and get back."

The vulgarity of the ordre pierced through her veil of comfort, making her cringe and regain awareness of the threat. She could count on Danny to defend her but she didn't want to give him the impression that she was helpless. She was searching for a way out of his grasp that didn't endangered either his guard or his concentration when a movement in the periphery of her vision caught her attention. A wand had just fallen into Danny's right hand.

That was odd. He didn't use a wand. He couldn't own one either; they were highly restricted magical artifacts. She turned her head toward his face. Without tears to shroud her sight, she saw her mistake. Overall, her protector resembled her progenitor but he wasn't her daddy. He wasn't Danny.

He was a wizard, as proven by the wand. Not any average wizard; a very powerful celebrity wizard. The lightning shaped scar blemishing his forehead branded him as the Vanquisher, the Revealer, Wraiths' Bane, the World's Saviour, Harry Potter. A name known and feared by all the denizens of the Ghost Zone; the one being capable of annihilating the strongest of their kind, the almost invincible dementors.

It occurred to Dani that a life of torturous experiments in the hands of the Guys-In-White might have been healthier and she started thrashing in his grip, taking no considerations for the state of her dislocated shoulder or battered ribs. He dispatched her three original assailant with great ease, not phased by her fight to free herself. When she heard a witness confirm the identity of her new captor, she increased her struggle.

It was neither pain or exhaustion that stopped her, even if she was at her limits, but rather a sudden disorienting sensation, as if her whole body had been syphoned through a small straw. She turned her head and vomited on the Vanquisher's feet.

For the second time in mere minutes, her will to fight was gone. The girl's sluggish mind lost itself in expectations as she awaited her fate and, without realizing, she drifted to sleep.

Dani awoke on a comfy bed, lying on her right side. Her numbed left arm was properly bandaged and slung across her chest. The tasty yet generic decorations informed her that she was in a luxurious hotel room. A distinct aroma permeated the air: burger and fries.

"Feeling better?" she heard with a distinct English accent. It was her… captor? saviour? Between his reputation to the ghosts and his actions, she didn't knew how to label him.

"Want to get up and eat something?" he added.

She moved toward a small table with a tray. Her sense of smell had been right except that instead of a lone burger it was a cluster of bite-sized ones, much easier to manipulate with one available hand. The fries were appetizingly greasy. The burgers juicy and well seasoned. She ate in silence, Harry hovering around. She felt wary. Ghosts depicted him as dangerous, their ultimate boogeyman. Vlad had taught her to beware of kindness; it came at a price.

"Thank you" she uttered once her meal was finished. She hesitantly walked toward the door, half-expecting to be stopped or attacked. Her hand reached out for the handle.

"If you want…" Harry offered softly, "... you can travel around the world with me. See places, meet peoples, make mistakes. I could use a companion."

Dani was going to refuse. It looked like charity. Ghosts feared him. She didn't knew him. He'd seen her weakened. She missed Danny. She was still deeply embarrassed at calling him da… that word. There was a multitude of good reasons to just leave yet there was also this feeling, this lingering warmth from a shared hug she craved to repeat. Her hand came back down.

_That's all of it, thank you for reading me. Hope you enjoyed._


End file.
